declaration

Dear internet,

I think I am in love. With a guy whose job makes our relationship completely amoral and tragic. Really, I never thought I was the sort of girl who’d fuck her boss. But he’s not just my boss–more importantly he’s this funny smart sweet silly kind excellent human being and I’m fairly sure I’m in for a lot of heartbreak. But, you know, I don’t really care, and that’s part of why I’m bandying about a word like “love.”

In the meantime, have not had much time for internetting. I’m only here now because I am sick-abed and he’s at work. It’s that dull stage of total immersion, I’m afraid. I’ve got nothing to say except reflections on the sculptural perfection of his nose and there’s no way I’m deluded enough to think that such dreck should escape the pages of a paper journal, so I’ll stop. But I did want to say something. Even if I’m just talking to myself.

love,

c.

p.s. Sarah Haskins is hilarious and insightful enough that I feel I can give it up for life. Go watch her on Target: Women!

Media Cocktail

other peoples’ words

"Keepers of private notebooks are a different breed altogether, lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss."
--Joan Didion